ouroboros
by Progenitus
Summary: so life begins, over and over again, but you can't tell where the beginning is anymore. [FeMC/Akihiko, Minako/Akihiko eventually.]
1. 4: The Cruelest Month

**ouroboros**

**4: The Cruelest Month**

_There will be time, there will be time  
To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet;  
__There will be time to murder and create__  
_

* * *

You wake up, and it happens. _Again_.

You groan and step out of the train.

—

When you meet Shuji Ikutsuki the Chairman, you are more peaceful than you thought you would be. When he cracks that joke, you chuckle, to the amazement of all parties—including the Chairman himself—but they don't understand that you are chuckling at the naivety you had at one point, when trust birthed itself so easily and unearned.

You know that tonight, you will be watched, but you sleep anyway. You have done this enough times to be used to the ever-watchful eyes.

You see the Velvet Room, and Igor gives his creepy introduction while trying to not scratch his twitching nose. The memorable blueness wash over you, and you can't help the way your muscles relax as the soft, elevator music glide into your ears, each note more familiar to you than Beethoven's Number 5.

You have to admit, it feels like coming home.

Igor chuckles, the tip of his nose quivering, as if he can read your thoughts.

—

You try to maintain a believable look of confusion and panic, but a yawn is just behind your throat, fighting to be born. This is getting boring, you think. You know exactly when Yukari will lead you to the roof, and you allow yourself to be guided there. In her fright, she doesn't notice how your feet pick up before she even says anything, and how your hand reaches for the door connecting to the outside automatically.

The air is thin, like you remember, and the dark moving pools with Melpomene's blue masks fit right back in your life.

Hello, you say to Thanatos, and Orpheus smiles.

As your consciousness fades, you are presented with the book—your book—and you feel each page underneath your finger, each facet of your personality humming and some fighting to get out.

You say hello to all of them, one by one, and this takes quite some time, but that's okay, because time is a tricky thing to gauge, you have learned.

—

You wake up days before planned, so you close your eyes and struggle to keep your eyelashes from trembling as your to-be-friends visit your bedside.

The Lovers cries a lot, and leaves you with pastel-colored irises. You smile at the nurse and she brings you a book on floriography. In the long hours by the window, you read that irises mean good news, and you almost laugh.

The Magician swings by, and when you open your eyes again, the flowers are gone. Later, you learn that he nicked them for this girl that he wants to impress, but doesn't have enough money to buy any. He justifies it by saying that the flowers are better enjoyed by the waking people anyway. The girl does not end up impressed.

The Empress comes, and you hear her fingers tapping on the nightstand beside your head, and it drives you crazy.

One day, Empress brings Star, and you had no idea that he had met you like this. You wonder why he ever entrusted leadership to you, after seeing your pale, thin wrists against the hospital sheets, melting into the great expanse of whiteness. He doesn't say anything, but you know his footsteps by heart.

—

Pharos visits, and you try to touch his hair.

He dodges, you try again, and after a few times you find that your fingers cannot hold him.

So the two of you just stare at each other. There is something sad about this, but you are far to desensitized by now to be able to say why.

—

The first real laugh you give in this world is when Yukari calls Junpei a 'poster boy for sexual harassment'.

All of a sudden you are reminded that these are people, _people_, and not just a voice in your head with a number ranking, not even just the beautiful forms that brim with energy on a page.

People, you think, are funny.

—

The first day they allow you back into Tartarus, almost everybody is a little scared by how bright your eyes are.

The lesser Shadows all run away from you, but there were a few that slowly oozed, barely casting a glance at your presence. Those are the ones that you respect and stay away from, although their forms were not any harder to slice through.

The team is confused by the lack of hostility, both from the Shadows and their slashing leader.

You don't explain yourself.

—

The girls shoot daggers at you as you walk to the school with Akihiko.

Honey, you think, you should see him sprawled out against my sheets.

But you are getting ahead of yourself.

—

Officer Kurosawa gazes straight at you, with a heaviness in his sight, and for one exhilarating moment, you believe that he _remembers_.

Until you realize that isn't possible, and Kurosawa always had a morose gaze.

At least Igor keeps your cash stash for you through each cycle. If you had more ambitions in life, you could own a yacht right now with your private vault—but what would you do with a yacht when every night you go back to school like some zombie streetwalker?

You feel like Doctor Faustus would know what you're talking about.

—

What you _really_ want to join is a martial arts team. You think with great pride that you could probably make the Olympics team if you wanted—you doubted that even Olympians train as hard as you guys do, and you always have your Personas as a quick cheat. Or a shooting sport team, where you shoot at cardboard targets instead of yourself. Wouldn't that be a nice change? Your temple is probably tattooed forever with the imprint of a gun barrel. Stained, like those tribal people who never wore shoes and had black soles. Or maybe just a modeling team, where you glare sulkily and make the duck-face pout—you'd probably be good at that too.

But, as always, you join the volleyball team, and run laps till the voice in your head tells you that Chariot has now begun.

You suppose that it's not important to max out all these social links, not when you have Thor, Scathach, Norn, Chi You, and the whole crowd waiting patiently for you. It's not like you will ever use any of your personas except Orpheus Telos, and sometimes Alice for her _Die For Me._ You like to be contrary sometimes.

This is when you remind yourself that Rio is a person, and not just the stepping stone to Thor.

So as an apology to nobody in particular, you take Thor out for a spin that night, and hear Yukari whimper as the hammer obliterated the Rampage Drive.

Junpei practically _oozes_ ressentiment as you made your way back to the dormitory, but you successfully keep your smirk masked behind a cheery smile.

—

On Sunday you visit Akinari, because you might as well just throw yourself at Nyx now if you ever forget to visit the boy, max social link or not.

He knows that death is coming soon, and you don't have to hide the sadness in your eyes. It's the same reason that you prefer the old bookstore couple to any of your peers—old people are always aware of death on the horizon.

There once was a time when you looked up cystic fibrosis and hunted for a cure, but now you understand why Akinari sits under the sun.

—

Hidetoshi from the Student Council mistakes the hardened look in your face for strength, and you don't blame him, because all the other SEES members make the same one.

—

Yukari talks about her abandonment problems, and when she tries to be self-deprecating and calls herself a 'pity party', you almost snap at her and say that it is about time she realizes that.

But you don't.

Instead you think about this poem that you read for literature class, and how one dead poet could know so much.

—

You spend the last day of April with Junpei, and spend the entire movie thinking about how you prefer his dumb, socially tactless company to Yukari's false cheerfulness.

But first, you show Theo the Paulownia Mall, the space just beyond the blue, glowing door. You wonder how he can be so fascinated by the utterly mundane. You must learn that from him, you think, and perhaps that is why he is called the 'assistant'.

All the coins in the world won't make that fountain magical, you think.

* * *

**Author's Note**: This is a New Game + in which nothing is new anymore. Who hasn't played a game so many times just to get all the achievements/possible routes?


	2. 5: All Things Seem Possible in May

**5: All Things Seem Possible in May**

_And did you shine upon my vacant heart  
like the native sky on an exiled spirit?  
_—Charles Jean Grandmougin, _Encounter_

* * *

It is a week full of encounters.

You meet Shinjiro for the first time—is it odd to think of it as the first time? still?—and he shrinks into his burgundy trench like it is a shield against death. You wonder if it is not better for him to completely retract from the world, instead of hanging around the edges of it as he is now, only to give his life.

The weather is too warm for morbid thoughts. The sun is out, the breeze is mild, the sound of childish screams no longer jarring but a pleasant interruption of your thoughts in its shrill briskness. May is here, like Yukari said, and it is beautiful.

You run into the 'mysterious' foreign exchange student Bebe inside the bookstore. His bobbed hair shines more than the actual sun, and you think that it is rather nice to be reminded of the concerns of the common people. He is French, you know, and you want to make him sing to you Charles Grandmougin's _Rencontre._

_Et vas-tu rayonner sur mon âme affermie,  
Comme le ciel natal sur un coeur d'exilé?_

You can almost hear the soft words float out of his mouth, thin lips forming and unforming words, until you are suddenly awakened, in the middle of the bookstore, where everyone is looking at you, and the last words of their conversation echo in your ears like wasps trapped by the mesh window guard.

You apologize for your moment.

That night you go to sleep early, falling onto your plump pillow that is as sweet as candy, and before you can think 'I am asleep', you are. When you flash into consciousness at midnight, you are so transfixed in your dream-thoughts, that you, for a moment, lose all sense of place and self. You cannot be sure of who you are, but then you see Pharos, and you know exactly who _he_ is.

He warns you, and you want to warn him.

The Golden weekend is here, and so is Tanaka's Sunday television program. You want to tell him that no, money is not all that is in the world, because you have so much of it, and yet you still cannot stop this. Or spend it. It takes creativity to spend money, nowadays, so you order everything on the program.

You meet Maiko, and you are surprised, because you had forgotten about her. You get her that weird takoyaki and your call of energy drink—should a little girl even be drinking Mad Bull?—and she is happy.

That's why you maxed her social rank, you remember now. The simple idea that you can make somebody happy gives you a golden glow, like you are part of this landscape that the sun is cascading on.

Maiko downs the can of Mad Bull and smiles at you with a million walts, and all of a sudden maybe you feel like this is the one, this is the time that you _will_ change it all.

—

Junpei is wildly specific about his coffee. You order a cappuccino because what else is there to order at a cafe, but Junpei wants his Sulawesi beans cold brewed.

He insists that you can taste the maple syrup in the round, rich body, and the cold brewing really brings out the dried cherry in the finish. All you can think of is how if you want maple syrup, you'd have some pancakes. It's surprising for Junpei to be so… well, cultured, really. Junpei in your mind is just video games, manga, and failed pursuit of women.

And it's funny, how he tries to egg you on to go get Akihiko, and you play the demure girl who's not thinking about how to get that guy out of his uniform twenty four seven. Junpei is the worst wingman in the world, but you like having him as your wingman, if only because no other guy actually feels threatened by his presence.

"… A transfer student swoops in and steals the heart of the boy every girl wants… Don't you think that would be totally cool? Haha, it'd be something right out of a manga."

It's right out of a storybook alright, you think, just not one with a happy ending.

—

Saori from the library committee reminds you of a modern vampire, with her ghastly pale skin, eyes rimmed on the bottom with smudged eyeliner, and red, red lips. Her hair curls delightfully just around her ears, and you think that it's a shame you don't get to meet Saori when you are a boy.

Still, there's nothing worse than ingratitude, as your mother used to say before she got herself killed. So you say thank you prettily, do that dance about _not_ being polite and formal, and end up with another number in your head.

You get what you can.

—

The night of the full moon, you stay up reading Reinhart and Rogoff's 2010 book, yawning as you got through the chapter on the cycles of sovereign defaults of external debt—you figure that this cycle, you will be the economist. It hasn't been great so far, and you think about reverting back to manga and light novels—you haven't seen the _Read or Die_ OVA yet.

Suddenly, you get that call, and everything blares back into life again.

In the command room, Junpei pisses off the second-wave feminist in Mitsuru, and you barely contain your snicker. Nobody can deny that Junpei holds stereotypical views and faintly believes in patriarchy, but it is a thoughtless, innocuous sort of sexism. God knows no matter what your gender is, he always has trouble with your leadership.

But he effectively shuts up at the entrance of Mitsuru's Harley. What a babe, you think as you slide your hand over the gleaming surface of its engine, when Mitsuru is too busy shaking all that glorious mane of hair from the helmet.

Of course Mitsuru insisted on getting a mass-market sport bike, and letting the custom hand-made, carbon-fibered, twin-engine Bimota Tesi gather dust back home. It's a shame, since there's nothing quite like it, and Mitsuru drives around her hard candy paint American Harley instead. A past you thinks it a crime, old thoughts floating up to you like the reincarnated soul looking into another world.

But there's a train to catch.

It is obvious, from the very first time you stepped on the monorail, that it is some sort of trap. But when has that prior knowledge stopped you? So you gently caress the thought of Orpheus Talos in your mind, her murmuring presence filling the void in the back of your head with a material fullness.

The coffins are a sight, and Junpei and Yukari are getting freaked out by the door locking behind you, but the familiar glowing red boxes fill you with something strange, a feeling of fragility, but also they are the most persistent thing in your life by far, a solid mass remaining poised there, long and still, like souls on top of a scale, reminding you, amid of all the unrest and battling, that this is what remains after all.

They rise up like audiences in standing ovation after a play, as the three of you make your way ahead. And suddenly, there is a shadow.

There is a shriek—Yukari, as she jumped back—and an obscene word—Junpei, as he gave chase and disappeared ahead—and you rip out Norn—her ticking announcing her arrival—and sweep the field with wind. Yukari shrieks again, but you are already on your way to the next car.

Eventually, you reach the Priestess.

There is a moment, one moment of bursting clarity, right before you yell out _Panta Rhei_, but after you jab it a few times so that Yukari and Junpei feel like they've been useful, when you are able to move your gaze from its nipples to its eyes, and you meet its gaze from behind its purple mask.

_I'm sorry_, you think, because you know this is not what you are supposed to be doing, but can't for the life of you figure out what to do instead. _I'm sorry._

To your surprise, it lowers its head just a fraction, as if in concession, as if in forgiveness, before the green blades of wind sever it into pieces and then nothingness.

You stare into the empty space that was the Priestess just second ago, and wonder if you just had a conversation with a Shadow.

Victory doesn't feel like victory, but it sure turns out okay. You stay up that night, reading that book you discarded. You end up beginning from the first page again, because every page looks as miserably identical as the next one, and you have no idea where you left off.

At some point, you suppose, you fall asleep.

—

Girls will be girls. And that's nothing to do with anti-feminist sentiments, you think as you endure another practice. Apparently, all the bitches went to a group date, and did not invite you (or Rio, but that was a given). At least you know nobody cute was there, since Akihiko would be far be shy, and Shinjiro would just give them the bird if one of the girls asked. There is Kosuke from Class 1, but you are pretty sure that he's gay with Mamoru, which was a shame, because Mamoru is blond and _hot_. Kosuke is also kind of attractive, in a morose, artistic kind of way, but his hair is just too long.

You pull your thoughts back as Yuko whispers in your ear, her breath warm and moist, delivering a _monologue_ that goes on forever, and by the time she get to the introduction at the end, you are certain that your ears are dripping with condensation and are also inappropriately red.

All you can think of, as Yuko leaves giggling and Rio continues to address you, is that you _have_ to get laid. _Soon_.

—

Yukari asks you what your favorite flower is. It's chrysanthemums—the golden flower of death that blooms in September, killing the last of the other summer flowers. It also tastes good in tea, so very utilitarian. But you tell her roses, because you know that Yukari admires the mysterious, mature woman who reeks of rose perfume and rose lotion.

Her mom was probably like that, but you keep that to yourself.

—

Rio doesn't like romances.

_Bull_shit, you think. The only difference between people is that some like romance because they're in love, and some are in love because they like romance. You'll be sure to give Kenji some advice over a bowl of ramen—pulled pork belly with two extra soft eggs, as your stomach grumbles—when he gets over that unrealistic teacher crush.

Really, who does he think he is, Benji Braddock?

—

Exams are coming up. Misturu says that she's studying college-level material, and you roll your eyes with Junpei, and only partially to get into his good graces.

Really, college is just plugging in numbers into derivative formulas and bullshitting about Kerouac, just like high school is about plugging numbers into algebraic formulas and bullshitting about Gatsby.

At least the math teacher, Ms. Miyahara, doesn't seem like she can do math herself. Junpei shouldn't be worried as the both of you swear at Grand Theft Auto.

The actual exams are easy enough, not because you're an actual genius, but because you'd be a retard if you didn't get all of it right after so many times.

—

The highlight of the month is that Akihiko final returns from his long absence.

He is almost as excited as you are—you know how much of a physical tank he is, and you are eager to get his knuckles bloodied, his clothes soaked, his forehead glistening…

You waft in the back as he punches the daylight out of those shadows, admiring the tension in his sinewy form, and maybe Junpei catches you staring once every so often, but you effectively shut him up with a glare and a quickly whispered threat to put him in an embarrassing fighting costume.

Things are falling into place, you think, as the group heads back to the dorm, sore and tired and sucking in the warm night air, and maybe things will be better this time around.

* * *

**Author's Note**: Slowly passing along the time... Please review!


	3. 6: June in the Garden

**6: June in the Garden**

_The birds fled from me,  
and night swamped me with its crushing invasion.  
To survive myself I forged you like a weapon,  
like an arrow in my bow, a stone in my sling._

—Pablo Neruda_, Body of a Woman_

* * *

It is the first day of June, and you know what that means.

Mitsuru stops to talk to you before you can step inside the school. As she talks on, you muse how funny is it that a person can be so wrong about something they've built their life around. Oh, she's expecting an answer, so you give a toned down, 'I agree', less cheery because it seemed to be shadow-related.

She tells you that Akihiko told her that you might be getting a new recruit, and you wonder when will the time come that you won't need Mitsuru in the middle.

It seems like a day of breakdowns, because Yukari complains about being creeped out by the rumors and Shu has a moment of crippling panic when he thinks about other people talking about him the way they're talking about Fuka. As if anybody would want to talk about Shu—not many people in your class is distinguished, but Shu is perhaps the one who fits into all stereotypical categories. He can't start rumors if he tried.

After school, _after school_ is what you've been looking forward to _all fucking day_, twirling your pen between your thumb and your index finger like a world champion of pen-twirling, supporting your with your left arm propped up but your head slipping down anyway, tapping your foot to _Girl With One Eye_, not even bothering to cover your stream of yawns that brings on other yawns throughout the room, and _still_ answering the question right for Junpei (who doesn't know Kundera is Czech?).

But the bell rings, and you loiter at your desk for a few minutes, leisurely packing up as if your heart isn't beating in what seems like years (but really year, because that's all you have).

You saunter out of the classroom, flashing Shu a bright smile, and head to the first floor hallway, where _voila_, Akihiko was standing there, examining the posters along the walls.

"Hi, senpai," you greet cheerily, because you know he appreciates your happy-go-lucky demeanor, and because his side profile never fails to draw a smile out of you.

He seems startled momentarily, before quickly composing himself and returning your smile, albeit much more demure, "Hello."

"Heading home?" you ask, hitching the strap of your bag further up your shoulder.

He nodded.

You wait four seconds for him to issue an invitation, and then sigh internally—this is one of the shyer Akihikos, apparently. No matter, you know how to deal with every single one of them, you think, as you tip your head to one side innocently and ask, "Wanna go together?"

He seems hesitant, "I was going to stop by to grab a bite on my way…"

"Perfect," you beam at him, "I'm starving myself!"

He blushes, and takes a short moment to find a way to say, "Er, I'm not sure if this is the sort of establishment that you'll enjoy…"

You wave a hand at him dismissively, "Nonsense, I trust your good judgment. Now let's go!"

In fact, you _do_ like Hagakure Ramen, even if it is slightly too hyped and always too crowded. The experience of the Japanese ramen shop was something unique alright, and while the pork soup base was tasty, you dislikes the lack of space.

And it is still too early to bump into Akihiko too often. There is a process, and that is what most of his fan girls miss.

He orders before actually asking you, but again, you sincerely like their house special ramen in silky tonkotsu soup, and you won't complain if he orders it with extra noodles. You also order the double pork belly buns, not to be outdone in the eating department. You don't order the ahi tuna and avocado tartare that you like because, let's face it, Akihiko isn't a tartare kind of guy.

How unfortunate, but give and take.

An eating Akihiko was a happy Akihiko, and as he slurped his noodles, he lectured you on the importance of physique and fitness.

"… physical strength is everything…"

You know this speech by heart now, and you bow your head down into your soup before wryly smiling. He has no idea: you are currently strong enough to obliterate this entire ramen shop off the face of the planet. Sure, you might be getting a little lazy with the laps and the spinning this cycle, but you still had your youthful slimness.

Not that, you know, you will ever lose it.

Before your thoughts sour completely, Akihiko breaks your inner chatter with a small exclaim of surprise.

"Oh wow," he says, genuinely surprised. "Amazing; you actually managed to polish that entire bowl off."

You shrug and think on how easy it is to impress him nowadays.

"Ah, but that barely hit the spot!" he complained, feeling at home to talk about his appetite now that it is apparent you share his enormous demand for food. "Oh I know this nice grill nearby, you up for going there?"

"You will never see me turn down food," you say.

He nods once, then seems to grow concerned as he asks, "Wait, you're not just trying to be friendly, are you? I won't be offended if you're actually full. It doesn't look like you can eat more…"

You drum your fingers on the sticky tabletop, the dark red tips clicking against the wood clearly. He is gentlemanly—or at least when he remembers to be—but god, you wish he'd stop treating you like such a baby already. "I'm fine," you say, clipping your voice so it doesn't sound too snappish, "I'd _love_ some grilled octopus right now." You actually are salivating over grilled lamb kidneys—oh the charred _fat_ layer covering tender strips of kidney, with just a touch of cumin to cover the taste of cheap mutton!—but you decide that it sounds too gauche.

Akihiko considers this and then concedes.

He brings you into some shoddy back alley after weaving through the mall strip, to a place dimly lit, with houses on each side that were low and half dilapidated, commissioned during a real estate boom and abandoned at the first sign of a recession. Now they were homes to various sketchy businesses and warehouses. At the end of the alley, however, there was a smoky venue, with a thin blue fabric hanging in the doorway as a makeshift door.

You follow Akihiko inside, and immediately you can see his shoulders drooping and the tension melting away from his neck.

If you don't know any better, you would think that Akihiko is a junkie and this is where he gets his fix. But you do know him well (despite what he thinks now), and so you just shake your head fondly at his affinity for cheap street food and addiction to protein.

How in the world did he stay friends with Mitsuru for so long? She must frown with great intensity whenever he walks near her, with the way the charcoal grill smoke stays in hair.

Oh well, you sit down, and gorge on the delicious lamb kidneys secretly.

You are completely nauseated after five sticks of kidneys, ten of lamb slices, two of chicken cartilage, and two more chicken wings. You can almost _feel_ the chewed up meat mingling with bits of noodles, swimming in a sea of soup and stomach acid. Ugh, that thought alone is enough to make your throat constrict.

Akihiko, the madman, decides that he needs a jog after all this meat, and you let him go ahead. There is _no_ way in hell that you are moving beyond necessity.

**-.-.-**

When did you become Ghostbusters, you think as you faithfully tag along on Yukari's little fervent quest to prove that the ghost rumor is just a fraud. You know that it's just the Shadows acting out, and soon you'll have to go and find Fuuka, but for now you enjoy the flustered glow on Yukari's cheeks.

Come Friday night, she gathers everybody in a show of show and tell. You give her all the answers that she wants to hear, and nod along to her plan to go check the place out.

Oh the back alley of Tatsumi Port Island, what a charming place!—said no one ever.

Still, you end up going the next night, despite a thinly veiled warning from Akihiko. He holds your gaze slightly longer than the other two, you think, but you defiantly look back.

The trouble you run into had felt incredibly dangerous and unnerving the first time, but looking back on it (looking at it right now), it's just a bunch of older high school teenagers who are trying to act tough. There is nothing more natural and pathetic than this.

Shinjiro steps in, and tells you about Fuuka. His eyes a downward, frowning line, half hidden beneath the rim of his beanie hat, a gray that seems only trick of a light the way he gazes at things, as if there was nothing to gaze at. His trench coat was wrapped tightly about him as always, a doubled-breasted burgundy that you imagine he picked up from a thrift shop and never let go, like everything else he owns.

You've always almost fallen in love with Shinji. It would be so simple, the easiest thing you've done in your life. His eyes follow you, steadfast, secretive, accepting the hardest and most elusive edges of you. He's never wanted to fix you, the way that Aki does, but you don't want him to, not the way you want Aki to.

But that is to come. Right now, the drama ensues. Shinjiro talks crap about Akihiko, warning the three of you, shooting a gloomy (but perplexed) glance at you, as if he can't figure out why he wants to look at you. Later, Akihiko also reprimands our foolhardiness, but it's a misfit sort of pride—you've always liked how Akihiko supports stupid things, if they seem to be innocently _just_ and _brave_, as if things in life can be fixed with just those two things.

Misuru finds out that authorities are (isn't it weird calling trivial people 'authorities' simply because they dictated your grade in school?) covering Fuuka's disappearance up, and the mean-girls-leader basically has a mental breakdown inside the teacher's office.

That night, you guys sneak into the school after dark, and the Dark Hour comes, as it always does.

There's not much to say, really, because you find Fuuka, even though you get separated from Akihiko and Junpei for a while. You're actually glad, because you've yet to been alone with Tarturus. You know you're not meant to—but it's like an old friend by now, or an old cancer, but something familiar and something you know how to handle, even it means death and ugliness, and you get anxious if you get separated from it for too long. The walls seem to even hum along in agreement with you as you go up the floors to find the boys.

And Fuuka. Fuuka is pale-faced as always, her large, sea-green eyes impossibly large, like round emeralds somebody forcibly engraved into her face, because they don't look like they belong there. Poor Fuuka, always alone and trying to do the right thing.

The rest of the story goes like this: girl saves victim, girl defeats bad guys, and girl delivers atonement to the mean-girl.

**-.-.-**

You went to the candy store with Bebe, and by the time you get back to the dorm, the top of your forehead is beginning to feel greasy from all the sugar and chemical flavoring that you just ingested. Junpei is sprawling across the floor in front of the Playstation, and barely looks at you when you close the door.

"Wanna head out later?" he asks while pounding some online opponent on Street Fighter.

"_Out_ out?" you clarify.

"_Fuck_," he curses as the opposing Ryu sends his Chun-li to the ground with an expert grab. "Yeah, yeah."

"Escapade?"

He throws down his controller and turns around, "Where else—whoa, what happened to you?"

"Nothing," you snap at him. It is too soon to tell him about dining with Akihiko—Junpei will think of naughty thoughts, and you really don't want to be the source of his naughty thoughts when you two are going out clubbing. "Gimme half an hour, I need to clean up."

"That you do," he agrees.

You kick him playfully (okay, half playfully) in the shins and head upstairs for a hot shower, hoping to burn off everything you've stuffed yourself with tonight.

Yukari, of course, doesn't want to go. When you go to check in on her, she is still hunched over her laptop, neck straining closer to the screen in a rather unbecoming posture. The girl is really obsessively into this ghostbusters pet project that she got staffed with.

"You sure?" you ask her again, tugging the hem of your dress down a little.

"Yeah, go ahead," she mumbles.

You wonder when did Yukari become a stay-at-home otaku—she used to be the biggest partier among you three, getting smashed with one Long Island Iced Tea and dancing her perky little ass off.

You shrug and close the door behind you. Junpei is a cheap bastard, but maybe you can wring a drink out of him tonight, without Yukari tossing her hair back and getting some random guy to buy them all rounds.

The entire night, you can feel Mutatsu looking down on the mass of throbbing crowd from his table upstairs, an old fashioned in one hand and an unfiltered Lucky Strike in the other. You have almost forgotten about this quirky old man, and you contemplate whether you should say hi and bum a drink off of him.

In the end, you decide against it. You'll wait for a day when Junpei isn't here. Mutatsu wouldn't like Junpei's crassness, and you want to talk to Mutatsu anyway. He is just cynical but funny enough that he comes up with a different set of jokes each cycle.

The little miracles, you think, as you gulp down the last of that watery greyhound and swing your hips.

At some point, you must have gotten home and crawled into bed, because the next thing you know, the damned birds outside your window start yipping and wake you up. It is the wrong side of noon—you should _not_ be up before one in the afternoon.

All you can feel is the tight, numb feeling in your throat. You sigh and climb out of bed, and with each move, your head whirls in an unpleasant way.

Advil, you think almost desperately, and try to find your slippers amid the heap on the floor. Damn Mitsuru and her iron fist about any and all drugs—you could _really_ do with something with a little more kick than Advil. Something like Vicodin. You nearly slip on the lacy dress that you don't remember stripping off of yourself. What are you in, then? You reach down your hands to feel your hips—ah, the familiar, soothing cotton of your worn teddy-bear pajamas. For a moment, your childhood slips through the headache and the cracks in your lips, and you can feel the warm glow of youth.

Then the moment is over, and your kick over your pumps and decide that, fuck it, you are going barefoot. The kitchen isn't that far—only two flights down—and if your feet get cold, you probably wouldn't even feel it, in this state.

So you tug at the edges of your pajama top and try to wrap it around yourself like a shock blanket as you ease open the door (careful, do _not_ wake Mitsuru, or Yukari, and you know, it's nice that Aigis isn't here yet, just for tonight). The floors are wooden, but they're relatively new, and you're relatively old, so you tiptoe around the places where it creaks, and makes your way down with expert precision.

This is practically _Ocean's Eleven_; except, you know, you are going for some light pills instead of the crown jewel, and you are by yourself. _Minako's One_, then. It doesn't have as much a ring, but you aren't witty when you are hung over. Or still drunk.

Good riddance, just how long _are_ these stairs?

That is the last step, and you do not expect that, so you stumble into the hallway and mutter an obscene word under your breath. You are much more creative when your brain is not trying to detach itself from your skull.

You slouch towards the kitchen, and in your state of grouchiness, you fail to notice that the light was on.

"Oh," you say, startled and painfully aware of how utterly unkempt you look. "Akihiko-senpai." You don't think you bothered with makeup remover, so your mascara is probably making you look more like a panda than a doll. Your teddy bear pajamas are from when you were twelve, and show expanses of skin around your wrists and ankles. You also are not wearing a bra, so you tighten your arms around yourself and lick your lips.

No, that is not a 'flirty' lick-your-lips; it is more like a 'shit shit _shit_ uh what do I do now' lick-your-lips.

"What are you doing up?" Akihiko asks you, closing the fridge door. He realizes that the fridge was the only source of light a little too late, and pulls the door open to a sliver again. The light shines upon his face, and makes his cheekbones stand out even more than usual. This is not the place to be noticing that, but you do anyway.

"Uh," you begin eloquently, "just looking for some water." Your voice is hoarser than it should be, and you hope that Akihiko either doesn't notice it, or chalks it up to drowsiness. Actually, you kind of hope that he does notice, because that would mean he is paying attention to your voice. "What are _you_ doing up?" you ask, slipping too easily into a defensive tone.

He lifts his left eyebrow, and although he does not mean to look condescending, he bloody does end up looking like that anyway; and it is so unbelievably _hot_. "It's six in the morning; this is when I always get up for my morning jog."

A couple of things run through your mind, although none of them make any sense. Morning jog Akihiko means sweaty, out of breath Akihiko. _Six in the morning_ for Jesus's bleeding hairy balls! Water. Water would actually be a pretty good idea right now. Akihiko gets up at the ungodly hour of _six _to jog? _Every_ morning? Water air water. You couldn't have slept more than an hour, so you got back from Club Escapade at five-ish? You thought you had left early too—it had _felt_ like an early night, at any rate.

You know, that cup of water might _really_ be a good idea now.

You walk forward cautiously, and grab a plastic cup from the dryer rack.

Akihiko turns on the tap for you, and adjusts the water temperature so that it's refreshingly cool but not scalding cold. It's a nice, small gesture that fills you up with warm, bubbly feelings. Except that bubbly means throw-up, so you keep it down.

"Thanks," you mutter through a yawn.

"No problem," he responds politely.

You take a sip of water as the two of you sink into a slightly awkward stalemate.

"You uh," Akihiko scratches the plaster on his face absent-mindedly, "want to come run?"

_No_. Well, it would be nice to see him in a wifebeater and glistening with sweat, but before she can do that, she will bend over and die.

"I'm going to Naganaki Shrine, so not too far," he offers.

Is he trying to _induce_ you to go with him? That's very forward of him.

"I usually train in the club room or alone in my own room…" he seems to be uncomfortable with the silence, and keeps on talking about nothing.

You chance a small nod, and ignore the intensified throbbing in the back of your head. "I can come train with you, if you want," you tell him, before adding, "just uh, not today."

"It'd be nice to have a running partner," he nods solemnly.

At this point Akihiko must be just being nice—there's no way he still can't tell that you feel like you're one of those small, reedy spiders that has been whacked with a roll of newspaper, reduced to a black blob of broken legs and smeared blood.

"Yeah, go knock yourself out," you grumble ungratefully.

"It's nice to feel the wind," he breaks through your grouchiness, "and nobody is ever at the shrine around now."

"That's because nobody is up and about, anywhere, at this time," you retort.

"Except you and I."

"Touché," you admit.

"And they have a small park there. With horizontal bars. I'm actually quite good at it," he says proudly.

"You can show me the next time we go," you promise, because clearly he wants to show you.

"Oh, everybody should be able to do it," he says, but the unmistakable straightening of his spine and the bright glint of pride in his eyes say contrary. "I've been doing it since I was kid."

And whoosh, the brightness leaks, and he falls silent.

You know what he's thinking about, but you are far too violated by your hangover to think of anything soothing to say.

"… I should get going," he says eventually, "I need to get stronger."

He walks out of the dorm, and you see his silhouette against the light outside—pale morning light melting with the orange of street lamp—like a black cutout with ragged edges. You can smell the summer coming and see the day approaching, for just half a minute, when he turns back to look at you over his shoulder, hesitating like a cat at the doorway, before the door swings close and you are left in darkness again.

* * *

**Author's Note**: And _now_ you see it's a romance. Somewhat.


End file.
